Stealth
by longlongtimeago
Summary: Set between the end of the Yuuzhan Vong War and the Killik-Chiss conflict, this is the story of how the Jedi Stealth Xs were designed and built.


Deep in the bunker, bent over her tac display, Luza Mak frowned. "Sir, we're being hailed by an unidentified X-wing," she reported, turning to look at her commanding officer over her shoulder.

Wes Jansen, in his habitual crumpled fatigues, booted feet propped up on a console, grinned at her. "Oh, come on," he said smoothly. "You can do better than that."

Luza rolled her eyes, but turned back to her scopes. "Whoever it is, they're not broadcasting idents," she said, studying the read-outs intently, her brow furrowing. "It's... _ancient_," she announced at last. "Pilot's bio-readings and voice patterns are consistent with a human male. The astromech appears to be an R2 model." She turned back to Wes. "That doesn't really narrow it down much," she said, her tone apologetic. "Why wouldn't he broadcast idents?" she wondered aloud.

Wes kicked his feet down off the dash. "Ten credits says this is a social visit," Wes said, leaning in Luza's direction and offering a hand. She looked at his outstretched hand and shook her head firmly.

"I don't bet against you any more, sir," she said. "Not after Bothawui." She keyed the comm. "Unidentified X-wing, you are cleared for landing. Come on in to landing field 7." She clicked off the comm. "Sir, would you like me to bring whoever it is in to the ready room?"

"No thanks, Luza. I got this one."

Wes headed up out of the bunker and strolled down to the landing fields. The sun on his face made him smile and sigh in satisfaction. The bunker where his squadron was currently stationed lay just outside the city of Tanaabro, the administrative centre of his homeworld, Tanaab, and where he'd grown up. To the north, the cityscape stretch off beyond the horizon. South, there was nothing but waving green meadows for a long, long way. Some of the places he'd been stationed hadn't been that bad, he reflected, but there really was no place like home.

He reached landing field 7 just in time to see the X-wing coming about for landing. Holding up one hand to shield his eyes, he followed it in. Luza was right, it _was_ ancient. As it settled down on its landing struts, Wes grinned and jogged over towards it. A ground support crew team followed him, keeping pace with an astromech crane and a set of rolling stairs.

As the pilot popped the canopy, Wes swept down into a flamboyant bow. "Welcome to my humble abode," he called up.

The pilot who stood up in the X-wing's cockpit and looked around him was, as Luza had said, a human male. He was around Wes' own age, dressed in a dark blue nondescript flightsuit with no insignia, and a lightsaber clipped to the harness. He pulled off his helmet, pushed a hand through his greying hair and looked around appraisingly. "Not bad," he called back. He stowed his helmet and gloves, and jumped down lightly. The support crew faltered to a disheartened shamble.

Wes threw his arms around Luke Skywalker and pounded him on the back. "Long time no see," he said, genuinely delighted to see his old friend.

"Too long," Luke agreed. Behind him, the astromech droid rose up out of its socket, floated down gently and settled on the grass, bleeping cheerfully. The support crew came to a complete stop. One of them threw her hands up in despair, and they turned around and began trundling their gear dejectedly back the way they had come.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour," Wes said. One arm slung around Luke's shoulders, he guided him towards the bunker. "You have to meet my pilots – they're gonna love this!"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," Luke said. "Corran told me – "

Wes shook his head ruefully. "See, if I'd known that establishing an elite all-female X-wing squadron was the way to get all my long-lost pals to visit, I'd have done it _years_ ago."

Luke laughed. "So the rumours are true."

"Depends what rumours you've heard," Wes said, winking. "Come and say hello."

They reached the hangar and Wes lead Luke inside. As his eyes adjusted to the artificial light after the brightness of the landing fields, Wes could see that the girls were all clustered around the hangar's tactical display unit, gazing intently at the maps that his second-in-command, Fillanne Maas, was talking them through. Hearing their footsteps echoing across the duracrete floor, Fillanne feel silent.

All twelve heads turned to face Wes and Luke.

"Brace yourself," Wes murmured quietly to Luke. "Go full evasive."

"Copy that," Luke replied just as quietly, then smiled to the squadron.

One or two of the women got to their feet. Fillanne turned to face them and tossed Wes a cocky salute.

Pia Luash, her flightsuit rolled down to her waist, revealing an utterly incongruous – and virtually transparent – shimmersilk bodice, sauntered towards him.

"Commander, aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" she asked, flicking an appraising glance up the length of Luke's body and back down again. Her lekku danced against her back and she licked her lips, smiling slowly.

"Ladies, this is Luke Skywalker," Wes said formally. "Rebel war hero, co-founder of Rogue Squadron, Jedi Master" – Wes put as much durasteel into his voice as he could – "_and happily married man_."

Pia extended one slender arm towards Luke, palm down, so that he was obliged to grasp her fingers in a courtly fashion, rather than shake her hand.

"As I live and breathe," she murmured, gazing at him brazenly. "I'm Pia. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Luke smiled. "The pleasure is mine."

Pia raised her eyebrows suggestively. "It could be," she said.

"Thank you, Flight Officer Luash," Wes said, extricating Luke and hustling him in the direction of the less forward members of the squadron – though, he reflected, forwardness was an entirely relative concept. "Luke, this is Lieutenant Fillanne Maas, my second-in-command."

"Charmed," Fillanne said smoothly. "But, now, surely, sir, you aren't going to bother Master Skywalker with all these introductions right now. He just arrived, it must have been a long trip – " she leveled her opaline eyes in Luke's direction and smiled a slow, sultry, lopsided smile – "I bet he's just dying to get out of that flight suit..."

The girls smiled appreciatively, winking at one another.

Rolling his eyes, Wes turned Luke in the direction of his office. As they walked away, a volley of cat-calls and appreciative whistles followed them.

"Now _there's_ a commanding officer I could get behind!" someone – it sounded like Kara, the Bothan pilot – announced.

"I'd rather get on top!" another voice – probably the Rodian Viula – shot back, and all twelve girls dissolved into lascivious cackling.

"Good skies," Luke murmured as Wes led him away. "Were we that bad?"

"Stars, no," Wes assured him. "This lot would eat the Rogues for breakfast. No, no, don't look back. They can smell male fear."


End file.
